


soulbound (legends)

by powertrip1000



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Eventual Romance, F/F, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powertrip1000/pseuds/powertrip1000
Summary: Legend has it Heda and Wanheda would reunite, chosen by the Gods themselves, to end dark magic war from the mountain -- but Clarke Griffin has no faith in being the reincarnated Wanheda even thought it's all she's known to be true.AU--world building
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, some unrequited Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	soulbound (legends)

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up first part sets up the second. While my wrist heals and i work on updating 'music is for the soul' i dug this out! it's 2 parts, the first part what you need to know:
> 
> Lexa is 13, Clarke is 16 -- there is no romance between them until the second part when Lexa will be 18 and Clarke is 21
> 
> also Titus is not a bad guy in this

_ “Heda!”  _

_ Lexa paused her walk… taking a deep breath before turning around and allowing no emotion to show on her face.  _

_ “Yes, Prema?” _

_ “Wanheda is upset.” _

_ Lexa sighed. They both knew upset was an understatement -- and for valid reason.  _

_ “I have a duty to my people, Prema.” _

_ “I know,” Prema whispered back, sounding heartbroken, “and that is why the Gods chose you to protect us… guide us…” _

_ Prema shook her bald shaven head -- a sign of devout faith as High Priestess of Polis -- and willed not to cry for her leader.  _

_ “I thank you for all of your service, Prema,” Lexa reached forward, clasping her forearm in farewell. “My fight will soon be over, but our people will need guidance. I trust Aurora… work with her.”  _

_ “Yes, Heda, I will,” Prema vowed.  _

_ “Now I must say farewell to Clarke,” Lexa said, both with humour and despair in her eyes when she saw a furious Wanheda running to her from the courtyard.  _

_ “Lexa!” Clarke’s voice was heard in full fury as she stormed the training garden of Heda’s private fountain and grass.  _

_ Lexa resigned herself to an earful from her wife, heart breaking as she saw Clarke’s desperate face.  _

_ “Clarke--” _

_ “How could you leave without seeing me!”  _

_ “It’s too difficult for me to say goodbye.” _

_ Clarke shook her head, lip quivering as she leapt forward to hold Lexa tightly to her body.  _

_ “There has to be another way!”  _

_ Lexa returned the hug and spoke in her resigned voice, “Clarke there is no other way.” _

_ “You can’t  leave  me, Lexa!” Clarke shoved her, hard, “you--” _

_ Lexa’s heart shattered in her ribcage as she saw Clarke fall to her knees. Softly, Lexa fell to her knees beside her wife, touching their foreheads she cupped tear-stained cheeks and laid her last kiss. Her own tears escaped her eyes, and she let them.  _

_ “War is brewing, Clarke,” Lexa pleaded to her to understand, to soften the heartache that was to follow, “and you are a General -- you know I must fight.”  _

_ “Please don’t go,” Clarke begged her, eyes still fierce. “Please… there has to be another way.”  _

_ “There is no other way.”  _

_ Lexa stood full to her feet, “you need to accept this Clarke. The Gods have a reason for everything. The Gods know what is best, we must have faith.”  _

_ “You’re going to  die !”  _

_ “If that is to be my fate, so be it,” Lexa was harsher with Clarke now, her voice losing it’s gentleness. “May we meet again my love.”  _

_ “I’m not just going to sit around and watch you die!” Clarke yelled as Lexa walked away, reaching for her shoulder to tug her back.  _

_ Behind Lexa, a rumbling and the force of a wind blew Clarke off of her feet before her hand could touch the shoulder. The force of an enormous black scaled dragon had landed beside Heda.  _

_ Lexa reached over to touch the dragon’s snout, whispering something to the dragon’s ear before sitting on top of it’s neck for flight. She looked down to meet Clarke’s eyes, tears now visible on her face.  _

_ “Lexa, I love you!” Clarke had to tell her, heart breaking irreparably.  _

_ Lexa’s voice carried over with the wind of her dragon’s wings, “I’ll always be with you.”  _

_ In the blink of an eye, Clarke watched the love of her life fly off on her dragon to a death sentence.  _

_ “Prema,” Clarke croaked, “she-- she can’t--” _

_ Prema was hugging her on consoling grief and Clarke sobbed, screaming at the God’s for the unfairness of it all.  _

_ The clouds suddenly stormed into darkness above her, and Clarke and Prema were stunned as a God appeared before them, struck into existence by lightning.  _

_ “Clarke, our Wanheda,” the God, an old woman with hair made of light and ten feet above them, knelt down. “We feel your pain.” _

_ “Why are you taking her from me, from her people?” Clarke needed to know. “She flies knowingly to her death sentence.” _

_ “We can only promise to reunite you with her, your love and devotion to our chosen hero is a blessing to us. May you both be together in all your lives, find happiness and joy. We only ask one thing in return.” _

_ “Anything,” Clarke begged the higher being, “ anything .”  _

_ “In this life, to save the world Heda is losing her life… in the next, you must save it -- save her from becoming what she kills.” _

_ “A dark being?” Clarke whispered, “but how could she--”  _

_ “She will be reincarnated with the blood of thousands haunting her -- and while she flies to sacrifice her life, she resents us for taking her away from you… her anger will be great.” _

_ “What do I do?” _

_ “You’ll know what to do,” The God promised before reaching down to gently touch light into Clarke’s heart before disappearing into light and the cloud clearing once again. “In three hundred years you will be born again, from the very moment you die… I have linked your life to the next surge of darkness so you can save her.”  _

_ “Prema--” _

_ “By the Gods,” Prema had been speechless, “Wanheda, you’ve been chosen by the Gods to carry their light in your soul.” _

_ “Prema I can feel her,” Clarke whispered, clutching her heart where the light had gone in, “she’s--” _

_ And then Clarke gasped, feeling that Lexa was nearing the end of her life.  _

_ “Until we meet again my love,” Clarke whispered, closing her eyes and letting her body die as Lexa’s did at the same time.  _

_ “Guards!” Prema called out for help.  _

\--

\--

\--

“That is a statue of High Priestess Prema,” Titus scolded the young priests in training loitering nearby the marble, “have some respect!”

They ran off, scared. 

“You’re still scary...noted,” a voice interrupted Titus’s scowl, even bringing a smile to his lips. 

“Princess Griffin,” he greeted the young blonde who held two sweets in her hands. 

“Happy birthday Titus,” Clarka held one out for him, winking. 

“Likewise your highness,” he accepted his treat and bowed his head respectfully before gesturing to the bench in the garden for them to sit. 

“I’m back at basic training tomorrow,” Clarke told him, watching the ever disciplined Titus enjoy his sweet like a kid. She smiled. 

After he practically inhales his gifted sweet with a satisfied groan, he turns understanding eyes to Clarke, “what brings the spirit of Wanheda to me today?”

The sarcasm has Clarke laughing. Ever since she was born, fifteen years ago on a full winter solstice moon, with eyes glowing a bright blue right here in this palace with the whole clergy watching her be born from her mother’s womb in a halo of light, Titus was the only one who never overdid the worship. 

“I’m entering the conclave this year,” Clarke told him. 

“Princess--” 

“Titus, please,” Clarke begged him, “I care not of legends and myths, I care only of what’s best for these people. If I am to marry into the commanding family, I need to participate in the conclave like any other… it is my final year. I’m a third year novitiate now...” 

“Your Heda is out there,” TItus said to her as he had said many times before, “she will bring peace to this war -- you will bring peace to this war!”

“She’s not out there!” Clarke told him, “ I was born from light and so I have been blessed by the Gods -- but people are dying out there, TItus. The dark magic of the dessert is gone but now the mountains threaten us with reapers! We need to deal with them.” 

“As I have told Commander Blake and I tell you,” TItus begs Clarke, “the very reason you were reborn is so you can be with Heda in this life as  _ she  _ defeats the dark magics of the mountain. They have been resurged exactly thirteen years ago, Wanheda which means she was born--”

“I will not hear of this again,” Clarke stood up, cutting her teacher off. “I respect you, Titus, you have been my teacher in many things... But I can not wait around for a Heda. If I marry Bellamy, people will feel hope and that hope will strengthen our army to stop the mountain!”

“The Gods will it this way, not I, Clarke… she is out there! The  _ Commander _ boasts an army that is not his to rule -- it is  _ yours  _ until Heda’s return. It is already your army he holds hostage so you wed his son and give him your power!”

“Him and his family have protected us for generations and eons,” Clarke raised her voice to Titus, “where has Heda been? I’m sorry Titus, I need to do what I can and  _ now _ . And that is entering the conclave, winning it, and agreeing to this marriage and alliance for our people.” 

\--

\--

“Pike,” Commande Blake called over his General and second-in-command. 

“Sir,” Pike stepped forward, as they were alone. 

“It’s the year 316 Prime Heda, if that child is alive it’s age is thirteen,” Blake whispered under his breath, “the age of all first year novitiates. You know what to do.”

Pike nodded grimly, “but Gustus showed us the dead baby he killed…”

“And yet, Gustus killed himself shortly after… I fear he betrayed me and kept that child alive.” 

“Then we will find her and kill her,” Pike promised. 

“And my son will wed Wanheda, the engagement ceremony is the same night of the conclave. He will surely win his, and she will win hers -- and the people will see her allegiance to my family’s command… then the High Priest can no longer hold Heda’s rule over my head.”

\--

\--

\--

\--

\--

\--

The Polis colosseum sat tens of thousands of citizens, and Lexa trailed behind the rest of the first year novitiates with wonder. She had grown up in a small village far from Polis, Tondisi, before her mandated age group to enter the academy. 

Her very first day of academy was being given her current uniform, a bit baggy on her since she was the shortest and thinnest of the batch -- all novitiates were given black fabric pants, black jackets sporting a mandarin collar, a first year novitiate pin with their family name, and black leather combat boots. 

‘Noviates’ were what Army academy students like herself were called, from the age of thirteen to eighteen they went through three years of academy training. The decent soldiers became Privates in the Commander’s Army for combat after training was complete, the less decent soldiers were sent into other fields of society. 

The other first year noviates around her oohed and aahed as their guide gestured. 

“This colosseum was built even before Heda’s time. See that stone dragon statue?”

Lexa gasped, staring at the dragon stone statue. She was entranced with how detailed and large it was, sitting on a raised stone. 

“When Heda died in battle, her dragon died with her and the dragon was turned to stone in it’s death.”

The whispering picked up in excitement. 

“That’s the real dragon?”

“It’s so big!” 

“Yes it’s the body of the real dragon, and that’s who it’s been preserved for three hundred years. It was the only dragon in the world, gifted to Heda by the god’s to help protect us against evil magics in the deserts.”

Lexa stared at the dragon stone statue feeling an odd connection. 

“This is where the conclave tournament is held, right?” A tall girl with dark hair, and harsh dark eyes asked boldly. 

“Yes,” their tour guide answered politely, “this is where selected conclave novitiates will battle for you all the first year prize… and of course you all will also get to sit inside the colosseum and watch your peers with the citizens and fellow competitors.” 

Every novitiate started excitedly stating their enthusiasm for the conclave, it was the sporting tournament of skilled fighters -- and well known among the capital and surrounding villages as the event of the year. 

Lexa had always accompanied her grandfather every year, not to watch but to polish the shoes of all the army combatants that attended. It was a great season to collect money and get resources back to Tondisi. 

Her grandfather had been a Private in the army before his leg had been amputated in war against the Boat clan forty years ago. Lexa was turning thirteen tonight which was why she had been accepted into this batch of novitiates instead of next year and she was thankful for that. 

Unlike her peers, she was not wanting to move high in the ranks of the Commander’s Army and claim glory in combat… She had elderly grandparents who were too old to work and a novitiate’s monthly salary meant she could send them home some money while going through the academy. That’s all she was here to do for the next three years, and when she was done here she would return to Tondisi where the local blacksmith promised to teach her his trade, having no sons or daughters of his own. 

“Move along now, time to show you Polis Tower before you are sent to the Academy outside of the city for your welcome dinner and bunk assignments.” 

Quietly, Lexa trailed behind her class. She had only one friend from her village in the academy, Ryder, but they had been separated into different class groups. They were the only two from Tondisi since it was such a small village, most of the other noviaties were from the capital Polis already and other surrounding villages and many knew each other. 

“I’ll win that conclave,” the same tall girl bragged to her friends. 

“I heard our class has Prince Roan, Silvan.”

“Then at least it will be a decent fight,” the girl, Silvan, declared again. 

\--

\--

During dinner, Ryder found her quietly in the back and set his tray down. He had just gone through a growth spur that summer and even had some facial hair starting to show as well as a lower range in his voice. 

“How cool was that dragon?” he said to her, before grabbing a chicken thigh and taking a large bite. 

Lexa agreed, “so cool.” 

They ate their dinner and exchanged their version of the day, and then a hush went over the hall. 

“Novitiates,” a voice called out to them.

Lexa knew who it was from the shaved and ceremonial tattooed head, as well as the robes and long medallion on his chest. 

Titus, the High Priest to The Commander, and their dean at this academy. 

“Thousands of you enter our ranks today, but only twenty will be selected for the conclave from your class… and not every year are the same novitiates selected. Tomorrow you begin your training under the watchful eyes of our top five third year novitiates in their fields. Every day you must prove your strength. As a High Priest I protect the spirit of the Commander, and you represent that Army… good luck.” 

“See the one with blonde hair?” Ryder said to her, whispering as the many tables of novitiates chatted away in excitement after Titus’s speech. 

“Which--” Lexa paused, her eyes freezing on a very _ pretty _ girl. Third year novitiates were three years older than them, and Lexa felt a rush to her cheeks from the sight of one so pretty. 

“That’s her, that’s Clarke Griffin. She carries the spirit of Wanheda.”

Lexa had heard the name -- everyone had. Clarke Griffin, the ancient reincarnated spirit of Clarke Kom Skaikru as prophesied by the High Priest himself. Clarke had been born into the noble Griffin family, on a solstice moon three hundred years from the day Wanheda died. 

The legend -- the dawn of their new age and life as they knew it today -- was all counted from three hundred and sixteen years ago today: 

Heda Alexandria Kom Trikru, the fist Commander, a champion for the people chosen by the Gods and gifted a dragon, united the warring clans and in her last battle against the dark magics of the deserts sacrificed her life to destroy the last of the reapers -- evil magical beasts. Upon her death, her beloved wife Wanheda, was rumoured to have died in grief and the Gods promised to reunite her in three hundred years to meet her love, Heda, again. 

Lexa believed Clarke was Wanheda’s spirit, everyone did, because while they said she was born in the light of the Gods on the day, time, and year the prophecy said she would -- she had also used magic in her first conclave by accident. 

Lexa had been ten years old then, and it was three years ago. The stadium had erupted in noise and chanting while she and her grandfather has been polishing shoes, and by the morning everyone in Polis had said Clarke Griffin had been floating --  _ flying _ , like the ancient Skaikru people magic allowed. 

Skaikru was an extinct clan, and nowadays magic belonged only to the surviving clans -- Trikru (the tree clan), Azgeda (the ice nation), Floukru (the boat clan), and Sangedakru (the desert clan). Trikru people had magics passed through bloodlines -- to control the earth elements. Azgeda magics were of ice, Floukru could magic the water, and Sangedakru -- now rid of dark magics -- had none. 

Lexa had no magics, but she knew Ryder came from a family that did -- she had watched him practice helping his father pull weeds from their village without the labour of hands. 

One of the Commander’s selected generals, Indra Oku, and her bloodline had strong magics -- she was powerful and the only person in Tondisi history to have made it past Private in the Army ranks. Their village loved her for that, sharing her battle stories amongst one another. 

Her grandfather said Indra and her father had been friends in the academy, but Lexa hardly cared. They said her father died in his first battle, leaving her parentless when she was only one years old. He had never known him, and her mother had died in childbirth. The only family she had were her grandparents, they had raised her. 

It was the reason she felt no desire to rise up the Army ranks -- her parents died for an Army, for a battle that meant nothing. 

\--

Training grounds have a large eating hall for different lunch times, depending on the novitiate level, bunks of fifty novitiates since they were broken into smaller groups for their schedules. Classes included morning fitness followed by hand combat, sword combat, strategy, religion, history, maths, and magics for those who had it and archery for those who did not. 

Their third year novitiate for fitness and hand combat was Lincoln Green, from a noble trikru family who had come second in his second year conclave behind only Octavia Blake. 

Octavia Blake was not one of her novitiate teachers -- a fact Silvan had been very upset about, very loudly -- because Octavia Blake was Commander Litivius Blake’s daughter and second heir to the Commanding throne. She was the best third year novitiate in combat, having won all of her conclaves (though many were of the opinion that if Clarke Griffin participated in the conclave she would win). The High Priest TItus disallowed Wanheda to participate in the conclave, instead taking her under his wing privately. 

Rather she ran the academy alongside him, and Lexa had seen her lead their morning prayer from a podium and getting private lessons from the captains. 

While selected third year novitiates trained their classes because of their skill, they were themselves trained by Army Captains who took them as their seconds. Everyone was trying to find out who was second to who, and Lexa wondered why they cared so much about people who cared little for them. 

\--

\--

Lexa stumbled forward as she was shoved from behind, losing her footing. 

She was the shortest in her platoon of first years, and from the moment she had left her city of Tondisi for basic training, the other kids were not letting her forget it -- even now months into their academy. 

“Runt,” Silvan -- the tallest girl in the platoon -- shoved her again, and this time Lexa realized it had been on purpose as her mouth tasted dirt. 

The other kids laughed and ‘oohed’ at the taunt, and Lexa spit out the dirt and wiped her face, furious. 

The thousands of kids that had arrived for basic training were organized into platoons, and of course Lexa had to have a platoon of the most pompous children of noble families. After basic mandatory training of three years, kids would be sorted into two groups: those who advanced to enter The Commander’s Army as Privates, and those who would be sent back home. 

Lexa just needed to cursive this year, and the next two before she could return home to her grandparents and train as a blacksmith. 

“Hey!” A voice sharply cut in, “on your feet novitiate!” 

Lexa quickly pushed herself up and gulped. She had been sorted out to a platoon under the training of third year Lincoln. Rumour was that Commander Litivus Blake’s daughter and him were having an affair.

Rumours were always spreading in camp. Especially rumours about the top novitiates of the academy. And living in bunks with young preteen soldiers gave her ears privy to many such rumours. 

“Who shoved you to the ground, novitiate?” Lincoln demanded to know. 

Lexa kept her eyes ahead, “I did not see, Sir!”

“You did not see huh?” He raised his eyebrow. 

Lexa waited with baited breath. 

“See now, I think you’re lying… if you don’t tell me who shoved you  _ right  _ this second, you can clean up the Private’s lounge this whole week!”

If she gave Silvan’s name, Silvan would not get off so easily. The punishment of violence against one’s fellow soldier in basic was five lashes against the back. 

“I did not see, Sir,” Lexa repeated, voice steady. 

“What’s your name, novitiate?” Lincoln’s eyes were glaring down at her. 

“Lexa.”

“Family name?”

“Woods,” Lexa said chin up, proud to be of the Trikru clan. 

“Well, Lexa Woods, come with me.” He turned on his heel and yelled, “rest of you continue the obstacle course!” 

Lexa dropped her hand and followed him, some dirt still in her mouth. She caught Silvan’s eyes as she followed Lincoln, surprised to see fear in them. 

“Here,” Lincoln handed her a bucket as he led her to the tents where the third year trainees bunked. “Just scrub the floors. Take out the trash. Iron our uniforms. All three bunks. Make sure it’s done before we get back from dinner.” 

“Yes Sir,” Lexa agreed, watching him leave before resigning herself to the task at hand. 

Each bunk in this training ground had ten third years, and Lexa knew ironing thirty uniforms would take a long time and she would miss dinner. This was part of her punishment too. 

It was two hours later when she was done, double checking that everything was in order. She exited the last bunk and returned the cleaning stuff to the supply station. She made it back to her own bunk, collapsing to her bed and her stomach growling in hunger. 

Footsteps approached her and Lexa paused, looking up as Silvan towered over her, arms crossed. 

She waited with bated breath, expecting Silvan to punch her this time, and she was surprised instead when Silvan looked off to the side awkwardly. 

“How come you didn’t rat me out? I’ve been pushing you around a lot...”

Lexa could feel eyes on her from their fellow platoon mates, eavesdropping, and she simply said, “if I gave your name you would have been whipped five times across the back… we’re supposed to look out for each other here. We have no one else.” 

Silvan is quiet and so is everyone else. Lexa lies back against her bed, saying nothing further as she wills herself to sleep. In the morning she’s exhausted from no dinner as well as thirsty, and repeats the day’s training with her platoon. 

No one shoves her or calls her ‘runt’ and after she’s cleaned out the Private’s bunks again during dinner, she’s surprised to see food is left by her bedside. 

She looks up in surprise, and Silvan smiles back at her. 

The next day, Silvan even asks about her family and if Lexa is going to be stuck here for two years she’s glad she’s made a friend that’s not Ryder. 

\--

It turns out Silvan is from Floukru, and her whole family are Army legends. She shows Lexa a couple of tricks with water magic before teaching Lexa how to hold a sword better since it was Lexa’s worst class, and Lexa wakes up extra early to practice her sword handling before training. 

If she was to survive the next two years after this one she didn’t want to be unfit to do it. 

“You.” 

Lexa pauses her morning practice, caught red-handed, to see a tall woman observing her. Arms crossed and glowering -- the most skilled and infamous Captain rumoured to be observing which third year should earn the right to be her second. 

Anya Wolf. 

Lexa stood to attention, perfect salute and eyes forward. She was in deep shit. 

Captain Wolf stepped forward, walking in a circle around Lexa and glaring down at her. “Why are you not in your bunk, novitiate?”

Lexa answered, “I was practicing Captain.” 

“Practicing,” Anya was back in front of her and crossed her arms, “why? Is our practice not good enough for you?”

Lexa said nothing. 

“I asked you a question, novitiate!” 

“I am the weakest in my class,” Lexa revealed, “I don’t wish to slow down my platoon.” 

There was silence and Lexa stayed resolute in her salute. 

“Very well. Carry on.” 

Anya dismissed her and walked off and Lexa breathed out a sigh of relief. 

\--

\--

“Why is that novitiate cleaning out your bunks, you lazy third years?”

Anya loved the rush of power as all the lounging third years jumped to attention, salute and posture ready and dinner ignored. 

“I appointed her, Captain,” Lincoln stepped forward, taking the claim. 

“Alright,” Anya nodded, “back to dinner everyone! Lincoln, come.”

She gestured to Lincoln to speak privately with her. 

When they were out of earshot he dropped his salute and placed his arms behind his back, standing straight and watching Anya watch in the distance where the young, scrawny first year was scrubbing the floor of a bunk. 

“She’s not another noble kid I have to take it easy on, is she?” Lincoln questioned, knowing Prince Roan was one such kid they were not allowed to bully too much. 

Anay laughed, “no, Lincoln… she’s intriguing. I caught her early this morning practicing… what’s her crime?” 

Lincoln seemed surprised, “she was being shoved around in her platoon… I asked her to give me the name of who pushed her, she refused.”

“Oh?” Anya looked even more intrigued, “what’s her name?”

“Lexa Woods,” Lincoln said fondly, “Trikru obviously.” 

Anya felt the pride in her heart. Her and Lincoln were both from the Trikru tribe. 

“Hm.” 

\--

\--

Clarke Griffin hated basic training when she had to go through with it, and she hated that she had been given the platoon of the most spoiled rich kids on account of being ‘Wanheda.’ Prince Roan had been upset he broke a nail in combat and while he was highly skilled -- no doubt from the tutors his mother, Queen of Azgeda, gave him, he was only one such spoiled imbecile she had to deal with. 

“Who ironed my uniform?” Clarke asked out loud into her bunk. 

“One of the first year novitiates Lincoln forced,” Raven said with a yawn from her bunk. 

Clarke hummed, touching the smooth fabric, “whoever it is they actually did a decent job. There’s no wrinkles.” 

“What you and I find decent conversation is so different, Princess” Raven yawned again, sarcastically using her royal title. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. As the only known person with magic of the Skaikru, and her Wanheda spirit, she had been given the royal title at birth and her family -- the Griffin line -- likewise upgraded in noble status. 

“Fuck! My platoon is all dumbass floppy dingwads. One of them asked me the difference between division and multiplication. I kid you not.” Raven was a gifted strategist and weapons innovator, having been selected to teach strategy and maths. They often joked that while Raven was not born with magics, like most, she was still born with a brain those who had magics lacked. 

Clarke snorted at her friend, buttoning up her uniform jacket and then fixing her third year medal. 

“I’m heading to the mailroom,” Clarke announced before leaving her bunk tent, greeting the morning chill and heading out. The mailroom was the least busy in the morning with everyone at breakfast, so she could send some letters home to her mother. 

“It will cost you extra,” the mailman was telling a small novitiate. 

“How much extra?” Came a soft, quiet voice. 

Clarke patiently waited listening with interest. 

“Ten bronze,” he said sympathetically, “that’s your whole week’s allowance though, kid.” 

“That’s okay,” The novitiate said, giving him a bag of coins. “Here.” 

“How are you going to afford your food cut this week?” He leaned into her. 

“I will manage. Please, send it. It’s urgent.” 

With what seemed like great reluctance, he reached for the bag of bronze coins. 

“What’s going on here?” Clarke announced herself, curious. 

The novitiate paused and turned around, saluting her. 

Clarke smiled, she was quite short and small and also very red in the face. 

“This young novitiate is sending medicine home for her grandmother,” the man ratted the kid out, “she won’t be able to eat while she’s here though, Wanheda.” 

“Add the bill to mine,” Clarke stepped forward, pressing one silver coin down in front of the mailman. “And keep this to yourself, novitiate.”

The girl had green eyes, and Clarke saw her cheeks flush an even darker red. Clarke was used to that reaction when people saw her -- she was after all, a legend (and first years were the most gossipy). 

“I would rather not accept your charity,” the novitiate boldly stated, eyes stern even though her face was red. “Please sir, take my payment.” 

Clarke paused, shocked at that response, “e-excuse me?”

Not sure why she was offended, Clarke looked at the mailman. He seemed to take the decision out of her hands, grabbing the bronze coins. 

“It’s your stomach child,” he said to her, sounding exasperated. 

Clarke gawked as the novitiate took her leave, standing stunned for a moment longer before turning to the mailman. 

“She won’t eat for a week, and she refuses my help?” Clarke almost didn’t say the other part of her sentence. 

_ Does she not know who I am?  _

“That one sends money home every week,” he pressed a stamp down on some papers before, “almost all of it.” 

“Who is she?” 

“Lexa Woods,” the man told Clarke, reading off the mail he had stamped. 

Clarke hummed, thinking of green eyes that turned down her help. 

Later, she sees the same bony novitiate ironing uniforms from her dinner table, solving the question of the most skilled uniform-ironer around. 

“Lincoln, that novitiate you put on our clothes… what’s her story?”

Lincoln swallowed his bite of food, “not sure -- why Clarke? Anya was curious too...”

“She another one of your fan club?” Luna teased her. “The great Wanheda you are? Also, Anya was asking about her? Why?”

Every single third year there was after Anya’s mentorship, and all ears tuned into the conversation from her mention. 

“Fuck off,” Clarke smiled as her friends teased her. “She didn’t seem like a fan though…” 

While Clarke had been born to the noble line of Griffin -- she was a reincarnation of that soul and therefore the perfect match to wed the next commander. She had been urged to wed Bellamy Blake, son of the current commander since she learned what the word meant. Titus had always said it was not her destiny, but no one knew what her reincarnated soul meant. 

She had no memories of the life they spoke, only Skaikru magic and a predicted birth date and time. 

So while Clarke loathed some of her predetermined fate she had come to accept it, she could do a whole lot worse than the handsome and decorated Bellamy Blake. She had always loved helping people, it was in her blood so she knew she was meant to lead them… marrying him was what would win them the war. 

And she got private tutelage from the best of the best -- General Indra Oku herself. Indra taught Anya Wolf as her second before Anya became a Captain, and she had since taken Octavia Blake under wing for private tutoring too-- Octavia was everyone’s favourite to win the conclave battle. 

Clarke was looking forward to beating her arrogant future sister-in-law. 

“What’s Anya interested in her for?” Luna seemed interested in the novitiate now too, and everyone quieted down as they spied on their dream mentor walking up to the girl and telling her something. 

“Anya caught her practicing in the morning,” Lincoln told everyone. 

Clarke watched with intrigue as the girl followed Anya around the tent and they both disappeared, also curious as to why Anya Wolf would ever bother herself with a first year. 

\--

\--

“Hold it like this,” Anya corrected the grip of Lexa’s hands, “and widen your stance.” 

Lexa was drenched in sweat. Anya had found her after her cleaning duties, and pulled her aside to show her how to properly hold a sword. 

“Good… now stay in that position while I go eat my dinner. Do not move, novitiate.” 

“Yes, Captain,” Lexa agreed, annoyed to have her evening ruined but unwilling to show she was tired. 

\--

“This was how she showed me, yeah,” Lexa was quietly sharing with Silvan who was excited to learn that Lexa had been forced to hold a sword for an hour instead of having dinner. 

Once again Silvan had saved her some food and snuck it back to their bunk. 

“Wow Lexa,” Silvan copied the hold. The others in their platoon practiced with her, and Lexa smiled, happy to be helping them learn. 

\--

\--

Anya observed Lincoln’s platoon training for the full day. 

“Your platoon’s sword skill is the best,” she told him. 

Lincoln saluted her and then smiled, “they’re finally getting the hang of it, yeah…” 

Anya saw Lexa doing her pushups before lunch, noticing her whole platoon was cheering her on as she finished. 

Somehow that girl had earned the heart of everyone in her platoon and Anya was intrigued. 

“Novitiate Woods!” Anya called out to her, “I need to speak with you. Rest of you are dismissed.” 

Lexa nervously walked up to her and saluted. 

“Yes Captain.”

“I showed you a technique to hold your sword last night--” she saw Lincoln’s eyes widen, and she smirked lightly at him, “--did you share what I showed you  _ privately _ with your entire platoon?”

Lexa’s eyes met hers and the girl said very cleanly, “yes I did.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because… we are comrades and this is war. They should all know how to be better.”

Anya hummed, “I agree. Well done novitiate. You are relieved of your cleaning duties. That is all.” 

Lexa nodded and left. 

“You never pick favourites,” Lincoln frowns at her. “You even turned down  _ Clarke Griffin _ to be your second.”

“Wanheda has Indra and Titus anyways… and The Army is competitive, Lincoln, everyone wants to be the best. Nobles parading their children like our ‘great Wanheda’ pr Prince Roan -- hell, especially The Commander’s kids -- are no better,” Anya said pointedly to Lincoln, “when have  _ you  _ ever met a novitiate who stands up for their platoon like that? That’s a soldier. Of course I’m interested in someone who remembers this isn't a popularity contest but an actual war we are fighting and need to survive against reapers and other dark magics of the mountain. I want her to participate in the novitiates conclave… make sure you select her from your platoon, don’t care who the other one you select is but you have to select her. Got it?”

Lincoln was still shocked, “you can’t be serious, Anya! She’s the smallest one!”

Anya glared at him “and if you failed to understand what i just said, then you also don’t interest me as a second either.” 

\--

\--

Lexa was glad to be relieved of cleaning duties, able to properly eat dinners again. Silvan was nervously buzzing besides her and Ryder because it was the evening they were to announce the chosen first years of the conclave. Twenty would be chosen in a tournament to fight. 

“-- Roan Snow and Ryder Root,” Clarke Griffin herself was announcing the names, and Lexa cheered as Ryder’s name was called. He was large and skilled in wrestling. She was not surprised he had been selected. Him and Roan stood up and joined the selected first years at the front as everyone in the hall applauded and few in their platoon pouted for not being called. 

“You will surely be selected Silvan,” Lexa assured her because Silvan was easily the most remarkable in their class. 

“I hope it’s you,” Silvan said back to her, “and not Penn -- he never stops talking.” 

Lexa laughed, there was no way she would be--

“Lexa Woods and Silvan Dew,” Clarke called them up and Lexa was shocked as her platoon cheered for her. Many other whispered and she could hear some of it -- why her? She’s so small? The runt, really? -- she gulped and followed Silvan who tugged her arm up to the top. 

Clarke Griffin gave each novitiate a pin of recognition, and Lexa felt that uncomfortable rush of heat from her beauty and smile. 

“So we meet again,” Clarke whispered to her quietly, “I’m Clarke.” 

“I-I know,” Lexa stuttered, averting her eyes shyly. 

“Did your grandmother get her medicine?” Clarke asked lingering with a raised brow. 

Lexa nodded. 

“Good. Congrats and all the best in the conclave,” Clarke said warmly. 

Lexa felt her heart may explode. 

\--

\--

\--

\--

_ “I anoint Five Generals,” Heda Alexandria said to her congregation. “To protect this coalition, loyalty only to the people and our coalition as we unite in harmony.” _

_ “Yes, Heda!”  _

_ The chosen five stepped forward, representing their tribes.  _

_ Azgeda. Skaikru. Trikru. Sangedakru. Floukru.  _

\--

“And so Wanheda’s life was gone with her Heda’s, and High priestess Prema recorded the date and time of her death to calculate the great rebirth! It was decided that until then that the most trusted advisor to Heda, Aurora Blake, was given Command in her stead and The Commanding family, The Blake family, have protected us… for thirteen generations! It is now 316 years since that day, and we are still a prosperous people and no threat from the mountains will destroy us!”

Applause erupted, and the actors who had narrated and acted the story of Heda Alexandria Kom Trikru all bowed as flowers were thrown to the stage. 

“Thank you the National Actors of Polis Theatre Group!”

Commander Litivius Blake walked out, grinning to the crowd as thunderous applause overtook the stadium. 

“I am pleased to announce to all that my son Bellamy Blake, your future commander, will marry Princess Clarke Griffin of Skaikru nation. Your Heda and Wanheda will finally reunite!”

This time the applause shook in its excitement as the common people in Polis’s capitol rallied their love of The Commanding Family. 

“This is wrong,” TItus muttered under his breath as Litivius paraded Clarke and Bellamy around for public viewing. 

“Respect your Commander, High Priest,” General Pike hissed at him. “Sixteen years have passed and still no sign of our resurrected Heda. Accept that it was just a myth.”

“It is not a myth, she will rise,” Titus hissed back angrily to General Pike before his eyes turned to the other three present Generals Indra, Jaha, and Kane to implore them how wrong this was. “Clarke is the spirit of Wanheda, when the Commander returns she would not be pleased her beloved is not by her side!”

“It’s nonsensical politics,” Indra simply shrugged, “we all saw the spirit symbol on Clarke appear when she was born -- it’s true Titus -- but no other child was born that way. There is only Wanheda, no Heda, reborn.”

“The Gods have entrusted the Blake family to command,” Pike snapped. 

“And if she was born,” Kane spoke his own thoughts out loud, “she would be thirteen years and Clarke is sixteen. Heda was known to be three years older to Wanheda, not the other way around.” 

“Age of ascension is nineteen years, at which time Clarke will be twenty-two and already wed to Blake! He means to prevent the rightful Heda from ascending by marrying Wanheda to his son!” Titus scoffed, “this marriage is forbidden by the Gods and the Gods will not allow it.” 

All eyes turned back to see the infamous Wanheda, Clarke Griffin, a young girl with eyes a unique blue and cunning beyond her years, smiling to her loving crowd as she used her sky magic to float -- causing even more cheers. 

“If you ask me, Wanheda is eager to marry the heir and take her throne,” Kane mumbled under his breath. 

Titus leaves the room of generals, angrily stomping off, and the four Generals roll their eyes at his passionate belief. 

\--

\--

A ceremonial horn blew and deafening cheers echoed. 

Ascension Day was the biggest celebration of the year, a tournament -- the conclave -- where the best nominated soldiers fought in combat. Anya rolled her eyes when Bellamy Blake kissed the knuckles of Clarke Griffin for all to see. 

What a farce. Sometimes she felt she was the only one who realised people were dying from the dark magic reapers. 

“What’s this I hear of you nominating a novitiate, Anya?” Indra approaches her, arms crossed. “You’ve never nominated  _ anyone _ .” 

Anya salutes her mentor, knowing Octavia has likely complained about it from Lincoln who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “there’s just something about her, General. She’s different.” 

“Who is she?” Indra steps out to peek into the colosseum at the ground where the twenty nominated novitiates of their platoons were warming up and likely pissing themselves from the sounds of the crowds. 

“The smallest one you see,” Anya admitted, sheepishly. 

“That small, weak, runt?” Indra’s eyes zeroed in on her, “you’re putting your name on a lost cause?”

“Her technique is great,” Anya told Indra, “I taught her myself.” 

“You are a Captain, you need to be selecting a third dyear to train, not some first year novitiate… Wanheda accepted Kane’s offer to train her… she was tired of waiting for you.”

Anya reminded Indra, “I am still selecting Lincoln.” 

“A good choice,” Indra relented, “but what intrigues you of this inexperienced little kitten?”

“She took the fall for her platoon numerous times… won them all over, she has  _ leadership…  _ she can be made into a soldier. I want to see how she handles the conclave before I decide.” 

Indra relaxes then, “to my surprise you have thought something through for once… fine, but if she’s the first one out of the conclave I expect you to pay for my drinks later tonight.”

“Ugh. The engagement ceremony,” Anya snickers with her mentor, “we will both need to be drunk to stomach that nonsense.” 

\--

After the novitiates tournament, the conclave would rise up in ranks throughout the day for a tournament amongst second years, the third years, the Privates, then the Captains, and then finally the Majors. 

Clarke watched Anya and Indra talking in the corner, stretching her legs. She had finished her crowd pleasing appearance, and exchanged flirtatious words with Bellamy who was primed to win his Private’s conclave. 

“If you don’t make it to the final round and let me beat your ass down, I'll be pissed Griffin,” Octavia's snarky voice caught her mid stretch. 

Her relationship with Octavia was a multitude of tension. The biggest of which was how Clarke had been anointed her title of Wanheda since birth, and Octavia has had to fight to prove herself even though she was the Commander’s daughter.

“You’ve yet to beat me,” Clarke warned her. “Lucky I’ve never participated before.” 

The second horn sounded for the conclave of first years to begin and Clarke broke off her staring contest with Octavia, both of them looking down to the opening ceremonies. 

The High Priest Titus and his clergy stepped onto the centre to the cheers of many, the selected novitiate in their battle gear with their dulled swords. The judges watched and sounded the horn when a novitiate was struck by the blunt of another to their armour. 

“People of Polis, we celebrate Ascension Day, the celebration of our faith and our Heda!”

Applause erupted all around the stadium. 

“Now I introduce to you, your Commander himself -- the great Litivius Blake!”

This time the passion of the crowd roared as Commander Blake took his spot on the stadium, his hands raised as he allowed the people to express their excitement. 

“My people!” he addressed them. “Our Kongeda is prospering, the crops are starting to grow more and our Army grows stronger than ever under my rule! The threat of our enemies across the mountain grows nearer, but on this Ascension Day we will celebrate our strongest warriors for we will win this next war too!” 

Commander Blake stepped aside, and Clarke saw Bellamy was near him whispering. He caught her eye and grinned, and Clarke smiled back, even sending him a conspiring wink. 

Titus took over again, “Novitiates! You have been nominated from your platoons, make them proud!”

He clapped and the horn sounded, and just like that another Ascension Day conclave was starting. 

Or it would have, if a giant Pauna didn’t roar a mighty growl and stampede its way into the arena, trampling over young, screaming novitiates in its wake. 

“Anya!” Indra’s voice was the first to call her second to attention, and all elite soldiers in the back room grabbed their actual weapons to go and help take down the Pauna. 

Clarke grabbed her bow and arrow, knowing the best plan was to get a Pauna in the eye. She had the magic to fly and get higher ground. 

“Fuck this thing is huge!” Lincoln swore near her as they saw the Pauna slap a first year novitiate -- killing it instantly and causing other young ones around it to scream. 

The screaming was on all sides, the crowds also evacuating the stadium, and Clarke watched in awe as Indra dodged a paw, effortlessly stabbing the Pauna in the foot and rolling away with practiced ease. 

Indra was the best for a reason. 

“Save the Prince!” General PIke was yelling for first year Prince Roan to be saved first. 

“Over here novitiates!” Anya called out to the terrified novitiates. 

“No! Silvan!” a yell was heard and they all turned to see a bleeding young novitiate, unable to move, shivering as the Pauna growled and approached her with intent to kill. 

“Shit,” Octavia said near her. “How did it get in here this far from the forests?”

“Hey!” A rock smacked the back of the large Pauna and an unwavering voice called out to the creature, making it pause from killing young Silvan and focus its attention and anger to who dared taunt it. 

“Leave her you monster!” Another rock was thrown to the Pauna, and Clarke realised it was Lexa, the smallest and least intimidating of all novitiates. The one who ironed her uniform, refused her charity -- and apparently refused to fear a Pauna. 

The Pauna growled and charged her and Lexa turned and ran, leading it away from the escaping novitiates and jumping into the now empty colosseum row to get away from it. 

It’s attention was on her entirely and after a moment of gaping, Clarke yelled out. 

“Archers!”

Her and Lincoln were among the best, but Clarke was glad to see there were enough skilled archers to dock a bow and arrow and start aiming for the Pauna. 

It growled when an arrow hit it’s neck, but went after it’s prey. 

Lexa had successfully led it away for the novitiates to run, but now she was cornered and for certain dead. 

“Lexa!” Anya called out, about to run forward, only for Indra to hold her back. 

“Anya! We can’t! Only the archers can take it out, don’t be foolish!”

But even as Clarke saw ten of her arrows and the arrows of others land in the Pauna’s back, she knew they were running out of time. 

The Pauna was not stopping or slowing down as it charged after the daring first year. 

“We need to get it’s eyes and neck! Come on!” Clarke yelled out, running forward to get the Pauna at a different angle and jumping up to float high in the sky. She successfully hit it in the neck. 

She heard a growl of pain before the Pauna would kill Lexa, getting its attention as the beast yelled at her angrily instead. 

Clarke quickly docked her next arrow as the Pauna charged her, wanting to jump up high to get her, hitting it directly in the eye and then again in the other eye as it wailed and hit the ground in pain. 

She saw Octavia leap at the beast and deliver the final blow to its neck, and everyone calmed down as the Pauna’s breath stilled. It was dead. 

Clarke saw Lexa push up to her feet, and then run over to her fallen friend she had saved, seemingly unbothered she had almost died. 

“Silvan!”

“You’re welcome,” Clarke didn’t know why that girl’s lack of gratitude annoyed her. 

\--

\--

Lexa sat in the medical bay, quiet as the medic stitched up her cut. 

“I heard you saved your friend,” he said to her gently as Lexa hissed from the burn of medicine on her the gash in her arm. The Pauna’s nails had managed to scratch her and it burned with pain. 

Lexa was silent, worried eyes on an unconscious Silvan. 

“She will live, do not worry,” he told her. “I’m Nyko, what’s your name little one?”

“Lexa.” 

“Lexa who?”

“Woods…” she quietly shared her name. 

“Ah,” he paused, “I have stitched up your father. Many times.” 

Lexa looked excited, “really? What was he like?”

“Nyko.” 

A voice interrupted them and Lexa winced, looking up to find Anya there. 

“Captain,” Nyko gave Lexa a wink and moved on to another injured novitiate. 

“Do you have a death wish, novitiate?” 

Lexa kept her eyes down. 

“Answer me, Lexa,” Anya said to her, much more gently. “You told me you don’t wish to be a soldier -- that your family needs you alive, and yet you are willing to antagonize a  _ Pauna _ .” 

Lexa ignored the question. 

“How did it get in there?” She asked instead. “Pauna’s are even beyond the forests of my village Tondisi... “

Anya sighed, sitting down on the chair near Lexa’s bed, “Mountain people using dark magics. They wanted to ruin our holy day, send us a message. We have the culprits in captivity, and after the confession their heads were lost.” 

Lexa’s eyes burned, the adrenaline wearing off, “why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why is there so much blood?”

Anya had no answer and said nothing. 

“You should reconsider my offer Lexa,” Anya told her, a hand covering hers gently. “Someone like you can be a great soldier to this army. You don’t fight for glory, your fight is for the people.”

Lexa sniffled, “but--”

“As a CaptainI have my parents and little sister all set up in a nice house in Polis. A government house. Their bellies are always full, and I fight for the coalition. Go, be a blacksmith if you wish… but you can do both, you can take care of your family and do what you were born for too.”

“What was I born for?” Lexa asked her. 

“All I know is you are not meant to be the one who makes swords, you’re meant to be the one who uses them.” 

\--

\--

The feast of the conclave was still held, and Lexa reluctantly went to it. The infirmary had kicked her out with Silvan still unconscious, and Lexa was very hungry. 

“Lexa,” her name was greeted instead of ‘novitiate’ and Lexa paused her chewing of fresh bread to see Lincoln sitting down beside her in her small corner. 

“Sir.” 

“Private now,” he smiled at her, “we got promoted yesterday… I just wanted to say I’m proud to be your platoon leader. You were brave out there.” 

Lexa shrugged. 

“You.” 

The words caused Lincoln to jump up from the dining table and salute, and Lexa followed him quickly as soon as she realised it was Indra. General Indra Oku. 

“You are the smallest, weakest looking soldier I have ever seen and yet you stared death in the face and never cowered.” 

Lexa met the General’s eyes, saw the scars on her face -- scars of legend as much as her victories. 

“I will be watching,” Indra said, sounding more like a threat than a compliment. 

She twirled off and Lincoln whistled, “Indra never talks to novitiates,  _ never _ .” 

Lexa, curious, thought back to Anya’s words in the medical bay. 

She ate her food, and then Commander Blake addressed the hall and gave full credit of the Pauna’s defeat to his daughter Octavia, Lexa understood what Anya meant about fighting for the people versus the glory. 

Everyone in this room sought glory -- only a few wanted to resolve an actual war. It sickened her, and she was unable to swallow her food. 

“We lost some brave young novitiates today,” Commander Blake said, “and with a heavy heart I hope all understand why we need to prepare for war. But not all is sad news… tonight we celebrate the engagement of my son Bellamy and Clarke Griffin -- our blessed Wanheda…”

Lexa watched Clarke and Bellamy stand, heard the hall of people celebrate and cheer as they stepped towards ceremonial rings for engagement exchange. 

The flush she always felt around Clarke was hotter, like fire was in her veins. 

She was angry -- so angry. 

She had given her life for her people to survive, given up Clarke for her people’s prosperity, and all for what? For young lives of children to be brushed under the rug? For Clarke to wed the fraud Commander’s son?

For ignorance? 

\--

Down in the colosseum in the night, the stone statue of Heda’s dragon moves. 

\--

She was so furious she did not realise the gasps in the hall as the earth rumbled around them. She felt nothing but anger and fury and  _ fire _ . 

Screams much like the ones from the arena echoed and Lexa felt a wind, strong and forceful blow throughout the hall. People lost balance of their feet and a presence behind her as her dragon landed. With satisfaction, she saw Bellamy and Clarke had not been able to complete the ring ceremony, both knocked onto their backs and gazing at her -- at her dragon -- in shock like everyone else. 

“I did not die for  _ this _ ,” Lexa told the hall. 

“Heda!” A man carrying the ceremonial markings of the High Priest yelled out to her, “I knew it! You’ve returned.” 

Lexa turned, touching her head to her dragon, whispering to him. 

He leaned his head down and she mounted his neck, eyes furiously on Commander Blake. 

“You all  _ shame  _ my coalition.” 

And with that, she flew away from them on her dragon’s back. 

“You were right,” Indra is the first to speak in the silent hall, quietly before her voice carries more volume, “The High priest was right!” 

“It is Ascension Day!” Titus has tears in his eyes, having witnessed the reincarnated miracle of his life. “Heda lives!” 

Clarke turned shocked eyes to Bellamy, and then to Titus wonderwing what by the Gods had just happened. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
